Flow of Marimo
by SeaDevil
Summary: A series of flash-fics, written in a (sort of) flow of mind style, detailing Zoro's thoughts during one event from each of the islands since the timeskip, including Kuraigana Island. New chapters will come up shortly after the departure of the Strawhat Pirates from the relevant island. :/: This story is dedicated to my awesome friend Vendelareader!
1. Location 1

**Disclaimer: I do in no way, shape or form own the series One Piece; Eiichiro Oda does. Neither am I making any type of monetary gain off of this fanfiction; I am merely looking to improve my writing. I do not own the picture used as a cover for this story, either. That is taken from google, and unless I am entirely mistaken, is made by someone calling themselves zerocustom1989. All credits for the picture go to that person.**

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Location 1:

Kuraigana Island, Castle

He did not really know what to do about this strange turn of events. You would think that, considering what crew he had been stuck with since that day he met the strawhat-wearing boy in the East Blue, he would have been used to strangeness by now (more than just _used_, really; _immune _is probably a better word). Not to mention stupidity and madness (the Strawhat Pirates are not exactly the most normal or sane pirate crew around, but they were his nakama and he would protect them until death; yes, even the curly-brows, not that he'd ever admit it). And, since he _should _have been immune to it, it should _not _have been able to confuse him like this. But it does. It does confuse him and he does not know what to do. This situation goes far beyond the usual strangeness that seems to follow his captain around (the strangeness that he by now considered normal). This was not just what other (normal, civilian) people would consider "strange", no; this was _Strange_. It was not really... Luffy-like to do something like this. Gah, now he was getting a headache.

He really just wanted to forget about this and go and train. It always helped. It was relaxing to just _move _(and move, and keep _moving_, because if he stood still, he would _never _be able surpass that man). And now, now that he was so very, very close to his goal (yet still so very, very far away... but not impossibly far, _never _impossibly far; he would succeed, because he had _promised_), _moving _seemed even more compelling. The more he _moved_, the closer he would come. He had been given this chance – this _wonderful _chance - when he landed on this island, and he Would. Not. Waste. It. At the moment, though, training was a bad idea. He _does _know his limits (even if his nakama would have said differently); he knows when his body cannot take any more and needs to rest. This was one of those times. So training was a bad idea.

A nap would also be nice; _very _nice. He was tired, and it was oh-so-_tempting_... not to mention that usually when he napped, the situation that was around when he fell asleep would not be there when he woke up. It would be very nice to do so at the moment; then, he would not have to deal with _this _(whatever _this _actually is). But he had (to his own mind, at least) become an expert at realizing what was _Strange _during his time with the Strawhat Pirates, and _this _was most definitely _Strange, _as he had realized earlier_. _And one should never, _ever _leave _Strange _things alone. They usually come back to bite you in the ass. Hard. And would then run away with half of it, laughing (no, he was not exaggerating, not _really_). So the nap would have to wait.

His thoughts then turned to sake. It would be nice, he thought, to have some. Things always seemed simpler - less complicated, less _Strange _- after some sake. And if the situation became less _Strange _(or even, hopefully, stopped being _Strange _entirely), then that would mean that he could go ahead and take that nap he wanted. Thinking closer on it, though, he seriously doubted that this island would have any real, honest sake, considering that the only human who appeared to have lived on it for a very, very long time was _that _man. And _that _man only ever seemed to drink wine... which would do in a pinch, maybe, but he really, _really_ wanted some sake... not that he would be able to get it (if it even existed on the island) at the moment, as his body did not want to listen to him.

So since he was not able to train, nap _or _drink, that meant that the only thing that he could _really _do about _this _was to _think _(he gave an inward grimace at that; _thinking _was more of a Robin-thing... or a Witch-thing... or an Usopp-thing... or a... well, let's just say that he usually let his Nakama do the thinking - it made life on the Grand Line much less stressful). So he _thought_. It took... a while (not that he'd ever admit it; that stupid ero-cook would lord it over him for _Rodger _knows how long), but he found it. The message. And when he did, he realized that there was really only one thing left to do.

So he begged.

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**As I said in the summary, this story is dedicated to my awesome friend Vendelareader as a present to her! :D**

**Please review? This is the first time I write Zoro, so I would like to know if I kept him in character :)**


	2. Location 2

**Disclaimer: I do in no way, shape or form own the series One Piece; Eiichiro Oda does. Neither am I making any type of monetary gain off of this fanfiction; I am merely looking to improve my writing. I do not own the picture used as a cover for this story, either. That is taken from google, and unless I am entirely mistaken, is made by someone calling themselves zerocustom1989. All credits for the picture go to that person.**

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Location 2:

Sabaody Archipelago, Outside Grove #42

He was officially annoyed. All he had wanted was some relaxing fishing to occupy himself with until his (_tardy_) crewmates _finally_ decided to show up for the meeting (honestly, they had all spent the last _two years_ preparing themselves for this meeting; was it really so hard to be on time?). To think that _they_ usually complained about _him_ missing meeting places or times... especially that dartboard-brow. He was _so_ going to hold this over him when he finally decided to show up.

However, the cause of his annoyance at the moment was not really his (_tardy_) crewmates. It was all these _fucking_ loudmouths making a racket around him when he was (so very _obviously_) trying to take a nap (really, did no-one teach them common courtesy?). He was just about set on ignoring them and taking his nap _anyway_ (and he if he did, they would not be able to stop him; not even the Strawhats could do that) when his kenbunshoku haki picked up on a spike of killing intent.

It was pathetic enough that he could not even be bothered to draw his swords. He simply moved his head to the side and let the pole which had been set on crushing his skull impact into the deck beside him instead, smashing it.

Now, why would a fisherman be trying to kill him? Lazily cracking open his sleep-blurred eye to try to get a visual of his attacker, he was met by the sight of an unfurled, bulging sail with a grinning white and red fox-skull in front of the classic crossbones painted on it (not to mention the fishes... and the water... and... huh, isn't that a Sea King?). It was not what he had aimed to see, exactly, but it solved the problem of why someone was trying to kill him, anyway (most pirates probably find it normal to try to kill their stowaways). Sighing inwardly, he closed his eye again, sat up and tried to yawn away his sleepiness. It seemed like the nap would have to wait. As he stretched to start up the bloodflow through his muscles again after his (sadly way too short) stay on the hard wooden deck, he was vaguely aware of even more and even louder screaming starting up about him (how this crew had made it all the way to Sabaody if they were panicking about such a small thing like this, he did _not_ understand). Why couldn't they just shut up?

Surprised at the sudden (but _very_ welcomed) silence, he opened his eye again and looked out over the large crew. Huh. It seemed like he said that out loud.

He barely even had time to finish the thought before some fatso (probably the captain) hollered something (he had no idea of _what_, though, because of the fatso's heavy dialect), causing the entire crew to start running towards him, weapons at the ready.

Not feeling like dealing with a ship-load of weaklings at the moment (he had really, _really_ just wanted a quiet fishing trip to while away his time with while waiting for his – _tardy_ – crewmates), he decided that the easiest way to get rid of them was to simply get rid of the ship. No ship, no ship-load of weaklings. Simple logic.

Wado Ichimonji did not even need to leave her sheath for a second.

And if he put a bit more power behind his strike than what was strictly necessary to split the ship, then... well. They _did_ interrupt his nap, not to mention his quiet fishing trip... and he found it _very_ enjoyable to see the fatso's fragile little toy-sword break jaggedly as it got in the way.

Even if it was the wrong boat, at least he had gotten some entertainment out of it.

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******This story is dedicated to my awesome friend ********Vendelareader, as a present to her! :D**

**Reviews help me improve, so I would be very happy if you would be willing to tell me of your opinion of this chapter :)**


	3. Location 3

**Disclaimer: I do in no way, shape or form own the series One Piece; Eiichiro Oda does. Neither am I making any type of monetary gain off of this fanfiction; I am merely looking to improve my writing. I do not own the picture used as a cover for this story, either. That is taken from google, and unless I am entirely mistaken, is made by someone calling themselves zerocustom1989. All credits for the picture go to that person.**

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Location 3:

Fishman Island, Ryuuguu Palace

He tipped back yet another bottle of (_delicious_, high-quality) sake. The rough trip here aside, he was coming to like Fishman Island (hell, he would have admitted to liking Whiskey Peak, too, if they had had alcohol _this_ nice). Brook and the shitty cook could fawn over the mermaids all they wanted (not that #7 would be able to... hah, he still wanted to laugh at that; the _irony_); as far as he was concerned, Fishman Island would be remembered for its alcohol. They certainly knew how to treat a guest, that is for sure.

He reached for a new bottle as he snorted; he had made the right choice in beginning before the rest of the crew arrived (if he had waited for them, the Witch would probably have tried to drink away his alcohol from him... not that there seemed to be any shortage or anything, but _still_). The guards (or soldiers or servants or whatever they are) had seemed confused about the decision, though... He could not really understand why; it is not like his crewmates are _weak_ or anything; they will be just _fine_, no matter what this island decides to throw at them (and since the rumours of the Strawhat Pirates had reached even this place - he had heard the whispers - the guard-people should know that). Perhaps he had just gone against some kind of etiquette or something (but seriously, he was a _pirate_, what did they expect?), he thought as he shrugged, uncorked the new bottle and took his first mouthfuls from it (and it was just as good as the ones that had gone before).

He was just about done with that bottle (the eighth, unless he had made some kind of counting mistake), when the feeling in the room suddenly changed and became restless.

He tried to ignore it (he _really_ did; he was having too much of a good time to let anything interrupt it if he could help it), but when the feeling went from _restless_ to _hostile_, he figured that he really should do something about it. Key word being _should_. This was some _really _high-quality stuff; it would be such a shame to let it go to waste (after all, it would probably be a while until he would have a chance at something as good as this again). So, thinking it over, he shrugged and decided to keep up with what he was doing (if anything annoying came up, he could deal with it _later_).

He actually had time to finish up both his eighth, ninth and tenth bottles before the guard-people got their acts together and _did_ something other than just shifting and whispering (and a good thing, too, as he had been starting to get restless despite the excellent sake). Wiping off his mouth, he grinned as Sandai Kitetsu rattled in its sheath. He had never really been against a bit of dinner entertainment, and this might prove to be _fun_ (after all, fishmen and merpeople were supposed to be strong, right?).

As the guard-people launched at him, though, he was disappointed (_really_ disappointed; was that really all they had, or were they underestimating him?). Sure, they were _decent_, but he had been expecting a bit more than _decent_ from the royal palace (okay, so maybe he was just setting his standards a bit too high after the sake, but _really_?).

Grumbling and re-sheathing Sandai Kitetsu after the _highly_ unsatisfying fight, he wondered if he should just grab another bottle and sit back down when he noticed something at the edges of his senses. He could not help the grin that sneaked back onto his face as he realized what it was.

It seemed like they were leaving him out of the merry-making.

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**********This story is dedicated to my fantastic friend Vendelareader, as a present to her! :D**

**Reviews make me a very happy fish :)**


	4. Location 4

**Disclaimer: I do in no way, shape or form own the series One Piece; Eiichiro Oda does. Neither am I making any type of monetary gain off of this fanfiction; I am merely looking to improve my writing. I do not own the picture used as a cover for this story, either. That is taken from google, and unless I am entirely mistaken, is made by someone calling themselves zerocustom1989. All credits for the picture go to that person.**

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Location 4:

Punk Hazard, Ceasar Clown's Lab, Building A (Lobby)

He realized now (when it had been so close to being _too late_) what their time apart had done to the crew. He almost felt like smacking himself for not noticing it earlier (because he really, _really_ should have; it was his job to notice things like this, damn it, because _Rodger_ knows that Luffy almost _never_ does), because now that he had seen it, it just seemed so fucking _obvious_. He blamed the fact that he was just as affected as the rest of the crew, as well as the fact that they had all seemed to fit so seamlessly (well, apart from the stupid cook, but he did not really count; not to mention that he was "cured" now) back together, despite their two-year absence from each other, for his mistake. Still, that was no excuse (_never _an excuse; they had almost gotten killed for this "mistake"... _several times!_) for not noticing how _overconfident_ and _complacent_ they had all grown.

_Luffy_, of _all_ people, had needed to _lose_ and almost _die_ (and despite it happening before, it had _never_ been like this, when _all_ of them had been _helpless_ to fight back) before he _finally_ recognized this island for the wake-up call it was. As they left Fishman Island behind, they had also left Paradise behind. He had _known_ this, but he had not _understood_ it. They had all grown so secure in their own strength during their training, surrounded by familiar surroundings, opponents and obstacles that they had forgotten the fact that there would _always _be someone stronger (maybe not immediately, but someone would always come sooner or later, and he _knew _this, damn it; he was one of those who climbed for the title of "strongest", himself, after all). He himself had compared this island to "Hell" when he first arrived, but he had still not _understood_. This place _was_ hell, even if it could also be heaven, the place where all their dreams came true. It was the New World; he understood that now.

Fishman Island had been so deceptively _easy_, despite the fact that fishmen and merpeople were supposed to be so much stronger than humans that the entire crew had forgotten that _that_ was not what they had trained for. No, they had not trained for that island (it was only one stop on the way towards their dreams, after all, so why stop there?), they had trained for _this_. For the New World. It was high time that they all remembered it, and it seemed like he would have to be the one to remind them.

He contained his anger as Usopp tried to laugh off his warning (he _knew_ that it was only because he was nervous, but it still pissed him off; he did _not _want to see _any_ of his crewmates dead, and that is what would happen if they were to continue as they had), but could not keep it from leaking out into his tone as he gave Luffy the harsh but necessary warning.

The anger trailed off as Luffy answered, and turned into amused irritation at what happened next. He _really_ should have known better than to expect complete seriousness from his slightly childish Captain, but he had somehow still done so (though he would have to admit, even if only to himself, that Luffy would not have been _Luffy_ if he had reacted in any other way). Still, he felt some of the weight fall off him now that Luffy was on top of things again, and he felt a justified confidence grow within him; they would all get off this hellish island alive, in the end, with victory in their hands.

Nothing could stop their Captain once he set his sights on something, after all.

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**********This story is dedicated to Vendelareader, as a present to her! :D**

**I would be very happy if you could drop a review on your way out :)**


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